Honestly. I’ve never heard such tosh. And I thought Claridges was supposed to be a highly regarded institution. Surely you don’t really expect me to starve whilst in public, do you?

And don’t even get me started on the whole covering up argument. I mean, have you ever tried eating with a muslin over your head? No, I didn’t think so.

But all of this is really incidental to a much more important point. Because telling my mummy that she must cover herself up whilst feeding me implies that she is desirable in some way. And that’s, like, my mummy you’re talking about. Ew.

It’s not like I approve of my peers’ mummies, either, who went out in full force to make a point of breastfeeding in public, in response to that incident from last week. But on the whole, I absolutely refuse to believe that any bit of flesh you happen to see while I eat is intended. After all, feeding me is just a tiny part of what she must do on a daily basis to both keep me happy and run a home or, God forgive her, go out for afternoon tea to regain some semblance of a normal life. Is it any wonder that throwing a rag over my head so as not to offend any Tom, Dick or Harry isn’t always on the top of her list? Cut her a bit of slack.

So yes, you might sometimes see a flash of nipple while my mummy makes sure I am satiated, but seriously, Claridges, make like we do and just suck it up. After all, it’s no worse than what you’d see walking past a group of builders on a semi-sunny English day in December.

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